Light: Visionary Perspectives at the Aga Khan Museum

by Emese Krunak-Hajagos

The entire Aga Khan Museum was designed around light, so as its 10th anniversary approached the curators decided to celebrate it with an exhibition entirely about light.

Light is central to the museum and visitors experience it right away upon entering the building. In the hallway, To Breathe, Korean artist Kimsooja’s site-specific installation takes us to a different dimension, a dimension of magical light. The windows are covered with diffraction grating film and as daylight passes through it reveals rainbows throughout the space. The magic of this work is in making the invisible visible. Coloured light always amazes and fills us with joy. This kind of play with light can be found on many levels of the museum, shining through windows and creating its own ‘artworks’ on walls and floors.

Kimsooja, To Breathe, 2015, Site-specific installation consisting of diffraction grating film. Commissioned by Centre Pompidou-Metz. Courtesy of Institut français/Année France Corée and Kimsooja Studio. Photography Credit: Jaeho Chong.
Kimsooja, To Breathe, 2015, Site-specific installation consisting of diffraction grating film. Commissioned by Centre Pompidou-Metz. Courtesy of Institut français/Année France Corée and Kimsooja Studio. Photography Credit: Jaeho Chong.


There is nothing better than light as the focus for the anniversary exhibition. There are so many kinds: the light of the sun, the moon and the light inside us, the light we absorb and the light we radiate. The exhibition titled, Light: Visionary Perspectives, is an amazing combination of scientific and spiritual approaches, involving both historical and contemporary visions.

Tannis Nielsen’s, mazinibii’igan / a creation (2020) is the first piece I see. The Anishinaabemowin word ‘mazinibii’igan’ means “a drawing, a sketch, or a design.” It is a continuous video installation with many possible beginnings and endings. The installation is a result of Tannis Nielsen’s research into electromagnetic energies. She discovered that residual radiation stems from the Big Bang, believed to be the origin of the universe.
Stepping into the installation I am enveloped by darkness. It must be the beginning of the universe when nothing existed. Then some weak light grows, and I hang on to it with hope, as any little light is better than total darkness. Suddenly bright lights with impressive soundtracks surround me and it is almost too much, but I lose myself in this otherworldly installation and stop thinking. It surrounds me. As the story told by Elder Marie Gaudet (Turtle Clan Anishinaabe from Wikwemikong), a knowledge keeper and practitioner of healing songs and ceremonies, the installation invites us to reimagine creation. So, it seems I am inside the process of the creation that started, as the narrative says, with a single light emerging from the darkness. Am I swallowed by this installation? I feel I’m in the middle of it, totally absorbed by the darkening and lightening universe. It is a very complex world where dark, light, sound, narrative and music work together perfectly as I become part of the creation. It feels so good, uplifting and I am happy and amazed. Will I ever be able to leave it or do I want to stay inside and see what comes next? It is pulsating with energy, and I feel absorbed in it, an almost physical sensation. It is also very spiritual and mesmerizing. It was hard to distance myself from this installation and I needed some time to re-enter reality.

Tannis Nielsen, mazinibii’igan / a creation, 2020. Digital video, artist’s own footage and derivative. Story and narration by Marie Gaudet. Courtesy of Tannis Nielsen. Photography credit: Aly Manji
Tannis Nielsen, mazinibii’igan / a creation, 2020. Digital video, artist’s own footage and derivative. Story and narration by Marie Gaudet. Courtesy of Tannis Nielsen. Photography credit: Aly Manji

What I saw next, I can barely call ‘reality’ as Anish Kapoor’s two mirrors, facing each other from opposite walls, playing a game with me, challenging my perception. It is about what we see or what we think we see. Long ago Muslim philosophers thought that the light came out from our eyes. In the main floor exhibition room, the book Opticae Thesaurus addresses this idea. The title of the book is a Latin translation of Kitab Al-Manazir (Book of Optics) by 10th-century Muslim scholar and mathematician Ibn al-Haytham. He revolutionized the field by arguing that sight is made possible by light traveling to the eye, rather than by light emanating from it. His discovery influenced the western world as well and led to the development of the camera obscura and, ultimately, the modern camera.

Kapoor’s two mirrored disks, one made of steel and the other of wood and lacquer, remind me of our eyes. From their concave surface they show a view we don’t expect, seeing ourselves and the space in a different way. It is very complex. First, from a distance you see yourself upside down, then, as you get a closer look, you are standing on the ground again. The mirror is creating its own reality. Mirrors in art often denote self-reflection, so what’s happening here? Which one of the images is real or is all just visual illusion? As Bita Pourvash, Associate Curator, Aga Khan Museum says, “we also must understand that we don’t only see with our eyes but with our mind and heart and how they are connected in creating an image.”

I visited the exhibition a day before it opened, and the light was somewhat erratic, some areas a little darker. Stepping out of the view of the mirrors and looking back as they were reflecting on each other I wondered if, somehow, they communicate with each other in the dark when no one is around, sharing their experiences of us and how their tricks confused us.

Anish Kapoor, Mirror (Mipa Blue to Organic Green), 2016. Stainless steel and lacquer. On loan from George Yabu and Glenn Pushelberg. Photography credit: Connor Remus.
Anish Kapoor,Mirror (Mipa Blue to Organic Green), 2016. Stainless steel and lacquer. On loan from George Yabu and Glenn Pushelberg. Photography credit: Connor Remus.

The title A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest) reminds me of Gabriel García Márquez’s book, One Hundred Years of Solitude, that also takes place in a rain forest. It is a magical story like Anila Quayyum Agha’s. Inspired by objects and paintings in the museum collections, American-Pakistani artist, Anila Quayyum Agha, created a lacquered steel and LED installation. On the walls and on the floor, we see a series of laser cut patterns of flowers, leaves and animals from various cultures and historical periods projected from the glass box in the middle of the room. A bright green light surrounds me. At first, I thought, how peaceful. Indeed, it is beautiful; it is paradise or the garden of Eden — harmony is created. Then I recognize that my shadow becomes part of the installation, appearing on the floor and on the walls. The installation is built on contrasting elements: light and shadow. They play, they change as the movement continues. It reminds me of lying under a large tree on a summer day, looking at the light coming through the leaves. It is, like this installation, wonderful and peaceful; I could enjoy it all day long. However, we all know that where there is light, there is shadow, as shadow can’t exist without light. As I walk further into the room and look in every possible direction, I become even more aware of my shadow becoming an interactive part of this installation. There is a very intense movement of images and light, everything is changing. The harmony I felt at first, suddenly breaks. I feel the opposing forces, light and shadow, including my own, as though they are in a dialog. As Quayyum Agha says about her work, “light and pattern are intentionally utilized to create ‘perceptually soothing and conceptually challenging environments.”

Anila Quayyum Agha, A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest), 2024. Laser-cut resin-coated aluminum, Light Bulb. Lacquered steel and LED bulbs. Commissioned by the Aga Khan Museum. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.
Anila Quayyum Agha, A Thousand Silent Moments (Rain Forest), 2024. Laser-cut resin-coated aluminum, Light Bulb. Lacquered steel and LED bulbs. Commissioned by the Aga Khan Museum. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.

The tower-like installation, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, by Montreal-based Cameroonian-Belgian artist Mallory Lowe Mpoka contains more than 300 panels. The artist decided to create it when her grandmother passed away and she unexpectedly became the matriarch of her family.

The lighthouse is built from various materials and uses many mediums, like analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. The fabric came from her family’s workshop in Cameroon and was dyed there with the earth. The photographs come from different sources, combining self-portraits with images from ancestral archives as well as contemporary portraits. The stories created by them are hypothetical, and do not follow any linear timeline. Together they create a circle, much like a tribal circle, where the main idea is to be together, belonging to the tribe and its history. The artist addresses the idea of how family continues to live in you and in generations to come. Not just your genes but your memories and cultural inheritance include more of the past, present and future than your individual time allows you to experience. The responsibility is to remember, share and pass down your cultural and historical inheritance. As the lighthouse guides people safely to shore, your guidance can influence coming generations to remember who they are and to make the right choices. It also reminds me of the symbol of a single candle shining in the dark. While there may be other lit candles as well, they can’t take away the light from yours. The images are illuminated from inside the lighthouse. Light, besides being a physical element in this artwork, also becomes a metaphor for enlightenment of the heart and mind.

Mallory Lowe Mpoka, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, 2021-2024. Analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. Courtesy of the artist. Photography Credit: Rory Kearney-Fick.
Mallory Lowe Mpoka, The Matriarch: Unraveled Threads, 2021-2024. Analog photography, screen printing, photo transfer, embroidery on dyed cotton and linen with red earth pigments, acrylic, paper, and steel. Courtesy of the artist. Photography Credit: Rory Kearney-Fick.

Phillip K. Smith III’s Two Corners is a 3D work of colour-choreographed large reflective panels placed in two opposing corners of the room. It is a very intensive experience as I become a part of it when stepping into its universal space, surrounded by its ever-changing colours and interplaying light. Infinity is the right word to describe this installation. When I turned from one wall to another it seemed to open, giving me the feeling that I could walk further without any limit. The desert-like landscape horizon is confusing. I think it made me understand what a mirage really is. The changing of colors further deepens this impression. There is a blue sky filling the room for a short time, then the redness of a sunset or the greenness of fields. Sometimes the colors appear at the same time overlapping and framing each other. This shiny orgy of colors is bigger than my ‘perception’ and addresses the unconscientious layers of my brain. They instill different moods and feelings, turning my attention to these underrated territories of our minds.

Phillip K. Smith III, Two Corners, 2022. Aluminum, glass, LED lighting, electronic components, unique colour choreography. Courtesy of artist. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.
Phillip K. Smith III, Two Corners, 2022. Aluminum, glass, LED lighting, electronic components, unique colour choreography. Courtesy of artist. Photography Credit: Aly Manji.

As Marianne Fenton, Special Projects Curator, Aga Khan Museum summarized, “The installations and objects in the exhibition explore our shared humanity, encouraging us to experience light through the perspectives of these artists who have captured its emotional, spiritual, and physical presentations.” The exhibition, Light: Visionary Perspectives focuses on the power of light over darkness. Exploring both historical and contemporary understanding and creative interpretations of light. It shows us the possibility of new, hopeful horizons.

Images are courtesy of Aga Khan Museum.

*Exhibition information: Light: Visionary Perspectives, till April 21, 2025, Aga Khan Museum, 77 Wynford Drive, Toronto. Museum hours: Tue & Thu – Sun 10:30 am – 5:30 pm, Wed 10 am – 8 pm.

Paul Gurtler’s Collection of Toronto Based-Artists

by Robert Curcio

(Republication of a dArt magazine Winter 2017/18 article.)

Collector Paul Gurtler seated before part of his collection. Paintings from left to right by: YM Whelan, New York artist Dulcie Dee, Blaise Delong, and Steve Rockwell
Collector Paul Gurtler seated before part of his collection. Paintings from left to right by: YM Whelan, New York artist Dulcie Dee, Blaise Delong, and Steve Rockwell

Paul Gurtler and I met about eight years ago or so, through Steve Rockwell, the intrepid leader of this publication and artist in his collection. At a little get together last May at Paul’s Manhattan place, the three of us conspired to put in motion this profile.

As a young man in the early 70’s, the company that Paul worked for sent him to Tokyo for a few years which is where the whole art collecting bug caught him; first as a maker and collector of ceramics, then as a collector of prints. He still has a piece or two from back then, but the majority of pieces he gave away to admirers of the works. By the mid-70’s Paul’s company moved him to NYC where he was at the center of the art world with all the art celebs, legendary gallery owners, flashy headline making auctions, glitzy openings, the attitudes, big money and the art itself – it just wasn’t for Paul. It wasn’t until some years later when Paul went to Toronto on business that he found the art, artists and community that he was looking for and began to collect in earnest.

When he began going to Toronto Paul regularly visited the Fran Hill Gallery and Moore Gallery, where at both these and other galleries, the owners and staff were welcoming and engaged with all the people coming into their gallery. This was much different from Paul’s experience with NYC galleries where a visitor first had to pass scrutiny before anyone would utter a word. (This has changed a bit in NYC now, just a bit.) Something that was unexpected was that artists and galleries were all referring him to each other; artists to go see another artist’s studio or exhibit, or a gallery suggesting he might like the work of an artist at another gallery. (Happens a bit in NYC, again, just a bit) He was so impressed with everyone’s generosity that at one gallery he purchased three large paintings by Robert Chandler and YM Whelan, regardless of the fact that he had a typical small NYC apartment with no place to hang them.

Steve Rockwell, Color Match Game: John Jackson vs Tim Deverell, 2004, 
printer’s ink on paper, 24” x 24”
Steve Rockwell, Color Match Game: John Jackson vs Tim Deverell, 2004,
printer’s ink on paper, 24” x 24”

As we were going back-n-forth talking about the paintings, which artists he doesn’t like and an out of nowhere switch about his very different collection in Bermuda, I felt there was more to investigate as to where his real interest in art and to collect came from. Now Paul is a rather private person, so I was very surprised during our interview when, without insistent prodding from me, he just opened up and started talking about his father. How his father would come home with various antiques, classical and traditional paintings and other objects d’art, that he bought to quickly turn around to sell them. In today’s parlance Paul’s father would have been called a “picker,” someone who scouts out the local auctions and house sales for hidden gems to sell to the bigger auction houses, antique stores, designers and other clients.

Those pieces changed almost weekly, since these were pieces meant to be sold for a profit and not to collect and hold onto just for the sake of admiring the art. However, during the pieces’ stay in the home Paul’s father would share with him thoughts on why he bought the pieces. Paul said he talked about craftsmanship, technique, quality, and beauty, ideals that an individual artist worked at to create something unique and special. Ideals that only in recent years’ people have started to discuss and consider within modern and contemporary art. The time spent with his father provided Paul with a true appreciation and understanding for art, and for the artist. For Paul, it is not only about the art and being able to appreciate it, it’s also about his connection to the life and memory of his father. As he was thinking back to his past from his current vantage point as a collector, he stopped just briefly then continued with a knowing look saying that his collection, how he thinks about art, and his relationships with artists, would make his father pleased.

YM Whelan, Untitled, oil on canvas, 70” x 60”
YM Whelan, Untitled, oil on canvas, 70” x 60”

The majority of Paul’s collection is primarily Canadian art, more precisely 40 out of 50 paintings are by Toronto based artists and except for a few pieces it is almost exclusively painting. Artists include: Robert Bachalo, Robert Chandler, Tim Deverell, Ric Evans, Steve Driscoll, Ric Evans, Marianne Fowler, Steve Rockwell, and YM Whelan. In a basic overall description, the collection is comprised of abstract pieces with an inclination towards the geometric and minimal with a richness and vitality of color. While we were talking, I realized that after numerous visits, just about each piece has a certain quality of texture to it. Whether it is Nathan Slate Joseph’s (one of the few non-Canadians) incredibly textured metal painting/sculpture pieces or Whelan’s abstract geometric paintings where the slightly raised brush strokes are visible, there is always texture.

Paul does not buy for investment and has no interest in buying at auction because that is just a business transaction. He has no buyer’s remorse, as he called it when someone buys a piece on a whim only to resell it because they just don’t like the piece. The big art names of Basquiat, Hirst, Koons, Warhol, and the like, he lumps all together as not exactly artists, one he specifically called a fraud, since there are squads of assistants that make their art and there is more concern with market value than with real art ideals. He understands “flipping” as another business transaction, but not something a real collector or appreciator of art would ever do.

From left to right Robert Chandler, Paul Gurtler, Steve Rockwell with YM Whelan in front, photographed at Whelan’s Yumart Gallery in Toronto
From left to right Robert Chandler, Paul Gurtler, Steve Rockwell with YM Whelan in front, photographed at Whelan’s Yumart Gallery in Toronto

There’s an old saying that there are two types of collectors: one who buys with their eyes meaning it’s about the art and the other buys with their ears meaning they hear the buzz, who else is buying, the sound of money. Paul definitely collects with his eyes, and I would say his heart. Collecting gives him great pleasure and satisfaction, but even more it’s the experiences and interactions with the people involved that matter as much as the art. Having that interaction with the art, artist, gallery and others, seeing the development over the years and of their friendships, that is what truly matters. The piece of art itself becomes a snapshot that holds Paul’s memories over the years; visiting the gallery or studio, talking with everyone over dinner, learning why the artist made that piece that way, new pieces being made, all building new art memories upon his earliest memories.

It’s also about living with the art, many of the pieces in his collection have been with him for 15 years or more. Pieces do not go to storage or circulate on and off the wall, but in full view for all to see and a chance for him to share the art and his memories. After traveling on business for weeks or lifting his head out of spreadsheets, Paul looks at the pieces and thinks about those good times. As Paul says of his collection, giving them a human presence, they are all “good room-mates.”

Steve Shane: Living to Have Art

Christopher Chambers Interviews Collector Steve Shane

(Republication of a dArt magazine Summer 2003 article.)

Collector Steve Shane
Collector Steve Shane

Every Saturday art lover Steve Shane visits 30 galleries in New York City, where he resides. Sundays he goes to museums, or galleries outside Manhattan, All of his vacations are scheduled around art events. He has rarely missed a major international art fair in twenty years, He regularly sends out his art emails of his picks to over 500 fellow enthusiasts. Shane prefers to term himself an “art lover,” rather than a collector, stating that his “collection is only a little side effect of my passion,” although he has amassed a collection of over 500 works of contemporary art to date. Shane has never sold any of his collection, which will one day be bequeathed to different museums.

Christopher Chambers: Would you say that collecting is your hobby? 

Steve Shane: Hobby is too little of a word. It’s why I live. It’s why I go to work. Its why I go to work. It’s why I get up; it’s my life. The art galleries, the art dealers, my art collection; talking about it, reading about I, reading art magazines…

CC: What inspires you to collect art? 

SS: I’m looking for a buzz. I don’t drink alcohol. I don’t do any drugs. I don’t smoke. It’s my buzz in life. And I’m also looking for myself. My collection helps me understand who and what I am. I don’t just let anyone into my collection – it really exposes who I am, it’s like lying on a psychiatrist’s couch. My collection is really personal. I think you come here and you might be able to figure out some aspects of my personality, and my identity, history. 

CC: What is art for? 

SS: I think it has different purposes for different people. For me it’s for pleasure. I think it’s to learn. I think one of the things it’s for is: a talented artist was born in this world to help the viewers see what they didn’t see before viewing the art. For example, the Beckers. They taught me how to look. I don’t think I would have ever noticed urban landscapes if it wasn’t for them, I would have never seen a water tower. Or, Marcel Duchamp has taught me to look at things I see in life as a sculpture. 

CC: Why do you think people make art? 

SS: I don’t think they have a choice. They were born to do it. Hopefully a good artist does it because he has something to say about art history, our society, about politics…

CC: What is art? 

SS: Art is anything that an artist makes, that an artist has dedicated his life life to do. Anything that is shown in an art museum or an art gallery. I think it’s creativity. 

CC: Have you ever seen magic? 

SS: Yes. It’s all magical for me. My first experience of an artist. There’s an artist I’ve been crazy about for a while, I think it’s a magical experience for me to see it: Neo Rauch. It’s always a magical experience for me. It takes me to a different place. I think Kim Keever’s magical. One of the things in my collection is a sense of place. I have this thing; I work in New Jersey, I’m a doctor, and then I go through the Lincoln Tunnel and I’m in the art world, New York. I’m from Detroit. Kim Keever takes me to another place. I think that’s magical. It’s like a high. Art can be an escape in that sense. 

CC: Do you think a work of art should transcend the picture plane? 

SS: I think it’s more religious than spiritual. I don’t go to synagogue or church. It’s like a religious calling or religious experience for me. It’s more exciting for me when I first see an artwork as opposed to possessing it. I end up looking like a squirrel, maybe, because I have a big collection, but the biggest thing for me is to see it, to discover it, than to possess it. I like to be a part of the whole situation. After I acquire a piece I like to meet the artist. I also like to consider myself an artist as curator. The work takes on a different meaning in the context of my collection. Because it’s a curated show in my home. 

CC: Is there any particular overriding theme or direction to your collecting? 

SS: Within my collection there is a strong sense of place – a longing or an imagining to be in another place – a different, better place. Other themes recurring throughout my collection include, art about art – art that alludes to or builds on the history of art. I am also attracted to art that exhibits a sense of humor; art that uses wit or irony to comment on historical art movements, artists and the creative process. Another key theme is the marriage of seduction and repulsion. In its physical presence and its emotional content, the work in my collection both attracts and repels the viewer. Contemporary art, as art throughout history, expresses the horror and the joy of the human condition. The artwork in my collection reflects this condition with assuredness, strength, and sincerity. Other themes that have subconsciously entered are: “painting without paint,” “photography of invention,” the element of the “fake,” “the dysfunctional family,” “celebrity,” and a sense of the theatrical. 

CC: Did you collect other things as a child?

SS: It was elephants. Elephants from all over the world made from all different materials. 

CC: Do you collect artists in depth, or do you try to go across the board? 

SS: I used to only want to have one of each, but then, I was enamored by Cindy Sherman early on – in the early eighties – and I think I have twenty Shermans. Elliot Green, I have four or five and then Nina Bovasso… it’s mostly one ofs, but there are certain artists I have multiple pieces by.  Condo (2), Dunham (2), Dzama (4), Glantzman (2), Deb Cass (2), Jonathan Tucker (9), Lasker (2), Simmons (6), Elizabeth Olbert (2), John Waters (2) John Waters is hilarious, Angela Wyman (4), Wojnarowicz (2). 

CC: What is your favourite work in your collection? 

SS: The last piece I acquired always. 

CC: Do you see any particular direction that you think art is heading in? 

SS: Yes, I think it’s heading way toward video. I went to the last Documenta. I don’t have the patience to watch a video for forty-five minutes. In my opinion a good video is if you can jump in at any point and watch it for three minutes. That’s Pipolitti Rist. I end up being mesmerized, maybe that’s the magic you were talking about. Actually, I stay for a long time with her’s. But, I don’t think it’s going to be the end of painting, that’s for sure. I am an individual. I go all over the place and and figure it out for myself. I search for what I think is a good painting, not what’s going on now. That’s looking at art with your ears. I think it’s amazing what some dealers don’t know about art history.

Art Talk With Collector Ben Woolfitt

by Roy Bernardi and Jennifer Leskiw

“I don’t look at my collection as much as I should but, I know it’s around me all of the time.”  Timeless words spoken by Canadian artist and art collector Ben Woolfitt. He started collecting early in life, slowly, and most of the time without having a lot of money. There were times when Ben didn’t have enough money to pay rent. Yet, he couldn’t imagine having a life without art.  

Ben Woolfitt sitting next to his bed with (from top down) Adolf Gottlieb, Hans Hofmann, Robert Motherwell, (to the right) Milton Avery and Ray Mead
Ben Woolfitt sitting next to his bed with (from top down) Adolf Gottlieb, Hans Hofmann, Robert Motherwell, (to the right) Milton Avery and Ray Mead

No truer words have been spoken. His fabulous loft proudly displays his own works of art, paintings and drawings, amidst a carefully curated collection of internationally well-known artists. The Toronto loft showcases numerous paintings, drawings, and watercolours by such notable artists as Jack Bush, Jules Olitski, Milton Avery, Larry Poons, Hans Hoffman, Adolph Gottlieb, William Ronald, John Meredith, Ken Noland, Ron Davis, Ellsworth Kelly and William Kurelek, to name a few.  

Ben Woolfitt in front of Larry Poons Untitled #2, 1972 acrylic on canvas
Ben Woolfitt in front of Larry Poons Untitled #2, 1972 acrylic on canvas

File drawers contain gems of drawings including 3 Helen Frankenthaler’s and collectible artists’ books such as rare signed editions by Antoni Tapies. His New York Manhattan apartment showcases the same sensibility boasting a beautiful Milton Avery oil. 

Ben points to a massive Jack Bush on his wall behind his sofa which he considers to be a major piece of Canadian art.  “He’s unbelievable and he’s respected internationally”  Ben says. I remember going to New York in 2010 to see the Jack Bush at Christies.  In the photographic reproduction of the painting, Christies had trimmed off all the rough parts along the edges, so it looked very tight, and the image itself was very dark. I purchased the Bush, which is probably now worth significantly more than the original purchase price.

Ben Woolfitt standing in front of Jack Bush Bluegold, 1973 acrylic on canvas
Ben Woolfitt standing in front of Jack Bush Bluegold, 1973 acrylic on canvas

Which do you prefer, the search or the acquisition?  

They go hand in hand. The search is fine. I saw a Hoffman that I really wanted to buy, and I went down to the auction. I sat with my friend Ken Carpenter and the auction house brought the piece out for inspection. I just about passed out because Ken was totally convinced that the piece wasn’t good.  He said you don’t want to go for this one. It was a mash up of colours and the colour was off. So, I sat through the auction. The Hoffman went way over the estimates. I didn’t have the money to purchase it as it exceeded my limit at the time. When you buy a piece of art by any artist, you generally buy more than one or several works by the same artist if possible.  

If you had to pick one piece out of your collection, what piece would be the one piece that totally steals your heart?  

That’s difficult. I have a Hans Hoffman that is just amazing. I love Jules Olitski. I bought two of them. I have a beautiful little Milton Avery in New York. I have a Tim Whitten. It’s a real beauty. Collecting is an interesting thing. Some people say that collecting art is a sickness. I’ll tell you what I think collecting is. You buy what you can afford but you know, it’s like anything else in life. You go along and you buy a drawing by an artist and if it holds your interest, then you buy more by the same artist, and it all kind of comes together to form a collection. 

What was one of the first pieces that you bought?  

Ellsworth Kelly. It’s a print. I paid a $100 for it. I took it home on the streetcar. It was spring of 1968 I believe. I sketched it and that’s when I realized the drawing was very complex. After I sketched it, I called David Mirvish and in that conversation I told him that I had made a  decision to become a painter.

File drawers containing drawings, works on paper and collectible artists’ books. Art work (From left to right) two small William Ronalds and one large William Ronald, John Meredith, Otto Rogers and William Kurelek
File drawers containing drawings, works on paper and collectible artists’ books. Art work (From left to right) two small William Ronalds and one large William Ronald, John Meredith, Otto Rogers and William Kureleks

Is there an artist’s work that you don’t own but would wish to buy to add to your collection?  

Well of course I would be going back to the masters, Rogier Van Der Weyden and Alberto Giacometti. I’ve always had a thing for Giacometti. My early drawings were all “Giacomettiish. I remember being at the National Gallery in London, England. I remember the room I wanted to enter in order to see the Van Der Weydens and all of that kind of work. It reminds me of a similar story where Grant Goodbrand, a longtime close friend of 50 years goes into a museum, and enters the room where he wants to see something in particular.  He stays there till lunch, leaves and then comes back after lunch. The next morning, he comes back and does the same thing. On the third morning when Grant arrives, the guard in that room says: “You know, we do have other  paintings”. Grant knew he might never have an opportunity to go back to that museum but, he wanted to know the work. When I focus on a particular work, that work has to be imprinted in my mind. For me, regardless of the many museums I have visited, I can actually walk back into a particular room in my head, and I can see that one piece. 

How did you enter the world of abstraction?

I started to find out about abstraction through artists like Cy Twombly and Barnett Newman. I met Barnett at an opening in New York when I would have been around 21 years of age. We kept circling around one another and I finally approached him and said: “I love your work”. I couldn’t have said any more than that. At the time I didn’t realize how important and how rare that moment was. 

Ben Woolfitt in his loft with Ron Davis, Cuffs, 1969 Diptych polyester resin and fibreglass.
Ben Woolfitt in his loft with Ron Davis, Cuffs, 1969 diptych polyester resin and fibreglass

I also love Jasper Johns. I wish I had bought Johns at a reasonable price, but that time is over. I’ve known many Canadian artists. I knew most of the Painters Eleven. They were always coming through my arts supply store (Ben owned Woolfitt’s Art Supplies on Queen Street West in downtown Toronto) and we were doing business. I’ve also met Alex Colville and Christopher Pratt.

I used to sell paper and I knew more about fine art paper than anyone else. I knew all the machines and I’ve been to every factory. I imported 120,000 pounds of fine art paper and rag board a year. When visiting buyers and in particular, if they needed a particular width of paper, I could tell them the factory that supplied this. I could tell you what kind of water they use, how pure it is. The National Gallery of Canada, the AGO, and every museum in Canada bought from us. We were designated for this and we shipped everywhere.

One of the things I notice looking around your space is that you don’t really have any figurative works.  

“I do actually – just not hung”.  I do have the William Kurelek up but, that’s almost an abstraction too because the bulk of the piece is sky. When I look at a painting and it has a figure in it, I don’t care about the figure. It’s irrelevant to me. I just want to know how it works so, to me, looking at an Edgar Degas or a Jackson Pollock, it’s all the same. Really. It’s just a matter of whether it works or not and how people use the space within the canvas. If someone has any base knowledge of art they would know who the artist is just by looking at the image. 

Ben Woolfitt in his bedroom with two works by William Ronald (top) Dolly, 1980 oil on canvas and (bottom) The Moon and You, 1980 oil on canvas
Ben Woolfitt in his bedroom with two works by William Ronald (top) Dolly, 1980 oil on canvas and (bottom) The Moon and You, 1980 oil on canvas

Do you have any interesting art stories about some of the artists you have met?

William (Bill) Ronald owed money for rent and supplies. I did a deal for him as a courtesy. There was a collector who was always going on about “I’m going to buy this and I’m going to buy that”. He was very wealthy. So, I said you should buy some of Bill’s work in an effort to help Bill out and also receive money Bill owed me. I remember helping Bill put something like 25 paintings around the room, all canvases. The collector walked in with a babe on his arm. Bill probably  bumped up the prices on the works but, Bill was on his best behaviour.  The collector walks around the room looking from one painting to another. “So honey what do you think?  They’re nice huh?  Should I buy them all?”  OMG this is sick. Anyway, the collector buys everything and says: “You know Bill, if I change my mind on some of the pieces I don’t like, I’ll be able to return them.“ Bill replied: “Yeah yeah of course. I‘ll write it out.”  Bill was always in need of money.  Anyway, the collector came back about six weeks later, and he says he wants to see Bill because he wants to return a couple of paintings. Bill is sitting in his studio as the collector walks towards him telling him he wants to return a few paintings. The atmosphere wasn’t great.  At this moment, Bill lurches out of his chair and says: “You know I used to be a boxer. I’m going to knock your f***ing head off your shoulders”. End of deal. End of story.

Rae Johnson: Forgotten Soul

by Roy Bernardi and Jennifer Leskiw

Recently, we went to see the exhibition of Rae Johnson’s work at the Christopher Cutts Gallery on Morrow Avenue in downtown Toronto. Several large-scale landscape paintings were shown among smaller more intimate landscapes. Johnson, born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, studied at the New School of Art in Toronto from 1975 to 1976 and continued her education at the Ontario College of Art from 1977 to 1980. As a distinguished female Canadian artist, she lived and created art in Toronto during the 1980s before relocating to Flesherton, Ontario, in 1987. She stated that Robert Markle, one of her educators, was her most significant influence. She passed away in 2020. The opening event was attended by Rae Johnson’s children, Adrian, Joslyn and June.

Rae Johnson, Sunset, Lake Winnipeg, 1988, oil on wood, 244 x 366 cm
Rae Johnson, Sunset, Lake Winnipeg, 1988, oil on wood, 244 x 366 cm

Her artistic expression captures the diverse experiences of life in her immediate surroundings. Her artwork ranges from representations of demons and ethereal beings in the snow, to angelic figures, scenes of indulgence, intimate moments in bathtubs, depictions of societal outcasts, inebriated individuals, saintly figures, and verdant landscapes reminiscent of the Garden of Eden. Her creations explore the intersection of the sacred and the profane. She often portrayed her studio or living space, utilizing friends and her children as subjects.

Joslyn Rogers in front of Rae Johnson's oil painting Janet's Living Room 1998, Acrylic on canvas.
Joslyn Rogers in front of Rae Johnson’s oil painting Janet’s Living Room, 1998, oil on wood.

We sat down with her daughter Joslyn Rogers who works in the entertainment industry as an Actor/Writer/Director for a candid interview.

What was life like as the child of an artist?

I was raised in a creative environment.  I had the privilege of being the child of two talented individuals.  My mother Rae Johnson was a gifted visual artist. My father, Clarke Rogers, was the artistic director from 1982-1987 of Theatre Passe Muraille, a Canadian alternative theatre company that champions independent and experimental performances.  

I remember playing in my mother’s various studios. She would be painting into the night, listening to Nirvana or Jimi Hendrix, and I would be finger painting beside her. I remember falling asleep to the clickety-clack of my father’s typewriter, and playing backstage at his rehearsals. When I was a baby we were in-between apartments so we slept on the set of ‘Jessica’, a play by Linda Griffiths and Maria Campbell. My father was directing the play and my mother painted the poster for it. 

Rae Johnson, Night Games at Paradise, 1984, Oil on canvas, 213.4 x 335.3 cm
Rae Johnson, Night Games at Paradise, 1984, oil on canvas, 213.4 x 335.3 cm

We moved out of Toronto in the late 1980s and bought a country property in Flesherton, Ontario. We had acres of forest around us and a pond which became the muse for mother’s paintings over the next decade. Flesherton was an artist community so most of my friends were children of artists, like the daughters of painter Harold Klunder and sculptor performance artist Catherine Carmichael. Regardless of where we lived, our living rooms always transformed into my mother’s creative workspace. We frequently attended art shows alongside her eclectic circle of friends, including her close companions and fellow artists Tom Dean, Sybil Goldstein and Lorne Wagman. 

My sister, brother, and I were often left to our own devices, and would play from morning until night out in the sprawling woods surrounding our house. We became very attuned to nature, to the spirits of the forest, and were given the freedom to explore the imaginary worlds we would create in play.

Rae Johnson, Unknown Title (Rae's bedroom and studio in Flesherton), 1995, Oil on wood panel, 121.9 x 182.9 cm
Rae Johnson, Unknown Title (Rae’s bedroom and studio in Flesherton), 1995, oil on wood panel, 121.9 x 182.9 cm

After the death of my father, my family moved back to Toronto. It’s only now as an adult that I can truly appreciate the clan I grew up with and belong to, and that when I declared to my mother as a little girl that I wanted to be an actress, I was met with encouragement and not “get a real job”.

My mother, Rae, was an integral part of the Toronto arts community during the late 1970s and early 1980s. During this time, a collective emerged, ChromaZone, a vibrant creative group dedicated to reintroducing figurative painting to Toronto, featuring notable figures such as Brian Burnett, Oliver Girling, Andy Fabo, Sybil Goldstein and Tony Wilson. My mother was also an associate professor at OCADU. It’s stunning how influential she was.  

Tell us what you know about your mother’s relationship with Brian Burnett? 

Brian and my mother met at The New School of Art in Toronto as students. They quickly fell in love and had my brother Adrian. My mother told me about being poor students with a babe in arms, living in artist warehouses, and the “art wars” between them – spending nights trying to out-paint one another. Tom Dean remembers visiting Rae and Brian at their illegal apartment on Niagara street, which they had converted mostly into their studio with floor to ceiling paintings and a giant mound of dirty baby diapers in the centre of it all. Brian and Rae were budding artists together. They played in experimental art bands, one called Niagara, and another called DogSound, with other local Queen West visual artists like Micheal Merrill, Alan Glicksman, Lorne Wagman, and Derek Caines. They were ambitious, hot young art stars, and found their artistic voices together. They had the best art dealers in town: Brian was with Av Issacs, and Rae with Carmen Lamanna. I can see how they influenced each other in their respective paintings which share surrealist, dream-like qualities. Sometimes I can even see representations of each other in their work.

Rae Johnson, Winter Angel, 2018, Oil and graphite on canvas, 139.7 x 129.5 cm
Rae Johnson, Winter Angel, 2018, oil and graphite on canvas, 139.7 x 129.5 cm

They broke up in the mid 80s after nearly a decade together. It was devastating to my mother, who nearly had a mental breakdown but, that led to some of her most powerful paintings which now belong to permanent collections throughout Canada.

What do you recall about Rae’s art work?

When I think of my mother’s work, I recall my own life. When we were living in Florence, she was working on a series titled “Bambino Miracolo”, which was exhibited at the Canadian Cultural Centre in Rome, Italy. They were large scale oil paintings inspired by the horrific images coming out of the Bosnian war at the time. Embedded in the painted scenes were dying babies attached to intrusive medical devices and renaissance angels guarding over top. 

My life has been chronicled through my mother’s paintings. She painted our property in Flesherton, every season, every time of day. She painted portraits of her friends, every studio she inhabited, the storms and sunsets over Lake Winnipeg where our family cottage was, and she painted us, her children. I appear in her paintings at every stage of my life: as a baby, a young girl, and even as an adult. One of the most inspiring qualities about my mother was that she always painted. My father committed suicide by hanging in our Flesherton forest in 1996. From that came a body of work she called “The Black and White Series” and “The Premonition Drawings”. Like the titles suggest, they are black and white, often interiors of her bedroom with ghostly figures lurking in the shadows.

Did Rae favour figurative work over landscape painting?

My mother didn’t start painting landscapes until the late 1980’s after moving to Flesherton. She said she began in secret, afraid the new subject matter would be perceived as an affront to her well established style of “urban nightmares.” To her, this transition to painting nature was her most daring work. She also proclaimed that painting the sunsets over our Flesherton Pond was where she learned how to paint light. My mother’s paintings have a narrative spirit, and she would alternate between figurative and landscape for the rest of her life, each reflecting her inner soul. 

Rae Johnson, The Opponent 1982, Acrylic on Canvas, 167.6 x 203.2 cm
Rae Johnson, The Opponent, 1982, acrylic on canvas, 167.6 x 203.2 cm

I believe that good artists are visionaries, often unacknowledged or misunderstood in their own time. After taking on her artistic estate, I have been working alongside the new generation of curators and artists. They seem to understand and appreciate my mother’s work and that of her contemporaries. My mother was ahead of her time, waiting to be rediscovered.